


See You Around Red

by Afewproblems



Series: See You Around Red [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence, Frank Castle is a good bro, Frank knocks some sense into people, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Matt Murdock, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Matt Murdock Angst, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Spoilers, Spoilers for Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:37:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afewproblems/pseuds/Afewproblems
Summary: A grunt in front of him startles Matt, as does the sound of a body crumpling to the pavement. The smell of metal and blood fill the air as another shot whips across the street, a second muted thump shakes the ground as the other man drops.“What the hell…” Matt whispers, his head turning side to side to place where the bullet came from.“Long time no see Red,” a gravelly voice rumbles to his right.Re-write of the end of the first episode of season three, major spoilers for the episode. What if Frank returned to Hells Kitchen in the wake of the Midland Circle disaster, and what does this mean for Matt Murdock?





	See You Around Red

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I've posted anything on here but I've finally found inspiration again after watching the newest season of Daredevil! (It was amazing so I highly suggest you check it out because this story will spoil the first episode FOR SURE)
> 
> This can be seen as Pre-Slash, I want to try and work it into a series that will eventually smash these two knuckleheads together but it will take some time with their rough edges.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

 

“We should kill this son of a bitch,” a voice says above him, muffled and clipped as though underwater. A swift kick to Matt’s rib cage reaffirms the thugs position on the matter.

 

“Nah man,” a second voice pants, slightly farther to the right, “leave him.”

 

Footfalls, heavy boots crunching against the broken glass, announce the other man’s path back towards the van. An irritated scoff floats down to where Matt lays, the ebb and flow of movement and sound nearly non-existent after the many blows to his head.

 

No, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

 

“Hold on,” the words bubble up to dribble out his lips alongside the blood that continues to pool from his bitten tongue. Matt raises himself to his knees, a grunt from the exertion of this simple movement joins his earlier words and the blood that continues to run down his chin. Cold metal rolls towards his left knee; a grimace, in turn, rolls across his bloodied mouth.

 

Matt throws the pipe -the same pipe that had nearly been used against him, towards the sound of heavy boots.The sound of metal hitting skin fills his ears as a hand darts out to catch the projectile.

 

His heart hammers away in his chest, the hurried staccato forcing his lungs to play catch up; the sounds of footsteps begin to move closer towards him.

 

“God forgive me,” he whispers, his breaths come fast and broken, and turns his head away.

 

Make it fast, he thinks.

 

A grunt in front of him startles Matt, as does the sound of a body crumpling to the pavement. The smell of metal and blood fill the air as another shot whips across the street, a second muted thump shakes the ground as the other man drops.

 

“What the hell…” Matt whispers, his head turning side to side to place where the bullet came from.

 

“Long time no see Red,” a gravelly voice rumbles to his right.

 

“Jesus Christ Frank,” he hisses, a tremor wracks through his shoulders as the Punisher stops just behind him, “you shouldn’t be here-”

 

“Spare me,” Frank scoffs as he reaches for the scruff of Matt's torn and bloodied shirt; Frank lifts him to his unsteady feet before placing a firm hand against the middle of his bruised back.

 

“Move, we need to talk.”

 

Matt barks out a wet laugh, “I don’t have anything to say to you Frank, this is none of your business.” The hand on his back shifts once again to the collar of his shirt, forcing him forward; sirens echo in the distance drawing closer.

 

“Seems I gotta make it my business Red,” Frank mutters lowly as they continue forward.

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  


“This where you been stayin’?” Frank asks, taking in the bloodied sink and the rumpled bedding on the small cot in the corner, “you ain’t worried it's too obvious Alter boy?”

 

Matt bristles slightly but shrugs, exhaustion furiously chasing his limbs; he leans against a pillar, ignoring the call from the cot just a few feet away. Frank shifts, the leather of the heavy coat on his shoulders groans in protest at the stretch.

 

“They won’t say anything,” Matt says eventually, his voice rough and quiet, “not as though anyone knows I’m…” the word dies in his mouth. _Alive_.

 

Frank grunts, but doesn’t say anything. Hadn’t he heard about what happened with Midland Circle?

 

Matt breathes out through his nose, ignoring the man a few feet away. The smell of sweat, warm leather, and gunpowder invades the room, curling with the damp and rot beneath them; his stomach churns as he tamps down the wave of nausea threatening to evacuate the meager dinner he had managed to eat earlier.

 

Frank is still looking at him, or at least still facing his direction. Matt considers flipping him off as he takes off his gloves, wincing as dried scabs come free with the fabric. He thinks better of it.

 

“Look, not that I don’t mind you helping me back here,” Matt speaks over the derisive scoff that Frank makes at the lie, “but you can go now-”

 

“You wanted God’s forgiveness tonight Red,” Frank says sharply, crossing the space in moments. Adrenalin and fury rolls off him in waves as he steps into Matt's space, crowding against the concrete pillar. “What, like that ain’t a big deal?” He’s breathing heavier, waiting for a response, an explanation.

 

Matt stiffens, fingers curling into fists, who did this man think he was -this _assasin_ , as though Matt owed him any answers.

  
  
  


_“See you around Red.”_

 

The words, unbidden, slink through his mind, echoing just as they had that day, when Elektra stopped breathing the first time.

 

When the Punisher came to his aid, just enough to turn the tide.

  
  


Matt pulls the scarf from his face and slowly rubs his hand through his matted hair, torn knuckles glistening in the low light from the street outside.

  


_This wasn’t how this was supposed to go_.

  


“You asked me once,” Matt says softly, voice catching again on the words, “if I’ve ever been tired.”

 

Matt hears Franks heart rate rise again.

 

“...I’m...tired, Frank.” Matt whispers after a long beat. He looks away from the other mans face.

 

“It was a weak moment, it won’t happen again.”  

Frank pulls back slightly, a grimace blooms over his mouth, “Sure about that?”

 

Matt’s silence engulfs the basement, broken only by the intermittent passing of cars outside and the unknowing staff above them. He can hear Sister Alice wandering through the pews collecting various items as she moves towards the lost and found box near the front doors; the temperatures were dropping just enough to encourage parishioners to don their winter wear but not enough to keep them on indoors. The lost and found was full of abandoned scarves and gloves it seemed.

 

“Never thought you’d be the type,” Frank rumbled as he stepped away entirely, “you used to be so righteous about all this stuff.” He barked out a laugh, “guess that was some bullshit right?”

 

“Shut up,” Matt sighs, slumping against the pillar, “and leave already-”

 

“Seems real hypocritical of you Red,” Frank continues unimpeded, “lecturing on the sanctity of life and how killin’ is never the answer,” his voice begins to climb in volume, just enough the reverberate around the room.

 

Sister Alice continues on with her routine, still unaware of their presence.

 

“Shut up,” Matt says, his voice rises to match the Punishers, venom lacing his tone.

 

“Don’t think I will,” Frank sneers, moving to the stack of bibles on the shelf near the cot. He runs a calloused hand over the leather bindings, “not till you say it.”

 

Frank lifts, one of the larger tomes, the one he had opened earlier with Sister Margaret. His bible.

 

“Get out of here Frank, this isn’t some game-”

 

“It’s not? Coulda fooled me,” Frank huffs again, the smallest note of laughter coats his words. Matt rolls his hands into fists at the sound.

 

“Just say it Red and I’ll be on my way,” he says again, dropping the worn old book on the floor; Frank steps over the now open pages as a plume of dust rises from the discarded text.

 

Matt can hear his own heart rate climb, his adrenaline burst through his limbs as the Punisher continues towards him. His hands twitch at his sides in anticipation as he slides one leg behind himself, defensive. Ready.

 

“Say, what Frank,” he mutters lowly.

 

Sister Alice hums quietly to herself above them, checking that each pew has at least two bibles from the sound of her tutting, working through the last of her duties before retiring home.

 

Matt swallows as Frank takes a final step towards him.

 

“You’re a hypocrite and a liar.”

 

“Go to hell,” Matt spits out

 

The click of a safety catch just ahead of his nose startles the words back down his throat, _shit._ When had Frank drawn a weapon?

 

“Now if you really wanted God to forgive you all you had to do was call me Red, guess it’s your lucky day.”

 

Sister Alice pulls her long fleece coat over her robes and slips her felt gloves over her small fingers. She flips the main lights on the far wall and steps towards the exit; the clinking of keys echoes down along the stairs and into the basement.

 

“Frank-”

 

“I shot you once Red, think I wouldn’t do it again?”

 

Matt hesitates.

 

The side door upstairs swings shut, one of the main entrances the nuns use for it’s easy access to the courtyard and street beyond; Sister Alice slips the old key from her coat pocket and into the lock.

 

“Don’t Frank,” he whispers, his hands unfurl from tight fists into open palms. Not Yet.

 

Sister Alice steps away from the door, slips the key back into her coat and breathes in the cool night air, her evening over. She makes her way down the road, disappearing into the dull roar of traffic.

 

Matt snaps.

 

His left open palm whips the pistol to the side; with the same hand he grasps the barrel and yanks Frank towards him. Matt’s right hand swings towards the other man’s head as he stumbles closer.

 

Frank grunts in surprise but manages to bring his own arm up to block the sudden swing. Matt, maintaining his grip on the gun, brings his free arm down -elbow first- into Franks arm. If he could just get him to let go of the gun--

 

“Fight like you mean it!” Frank growls, his free hand jabs into Matt's side, earning a pained gasp for his efforts; Matt dashes to the side away from the fist as it attempts to connect with his bruised side once more.

 

Matt brings the arm he holds up, twisting the joint until the limb spasms and Frank roars. The pistol clatters to the floor. He brings his head back with a roar and slams it into the Punishers nose, the cartilage groans in protest but does not break.

 

Blood drips across the concrete as Frank stumbles back panting, laughing.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Matt heaves, arms still raised as the other man wipes his streaming nose, “you think this is funny?”

 

“Hysterical,” Frank says, words molded by a grin. “I’m the one doin’ the reasoning this time.”

 

“Reasoning? You call pulling a gun on me, threatening me in my church, reasoning?” Matt says, a shout building in his throat, “you’re out of your mind-”

 

“Well you didn’t just lay down and die now didja?” Frank asks, his breath evening out. Blood continues to pour down his chin, he wipes again haphazardly.

 

Matt stops and stares at the other man's direction. The smell of sweat and blood coats the room, replacing the damp and rot beneath them. His breathing evens out to match Franks, as he stumbles to the cot by the wall.

 

He had fought tooth and nail, the rage for his own cowardice burned in his fists as they connected with Franks body. For a moment the dark whispered words of his own worthlessness and the condemning silence from God were absent.

 

He could get back up, if just for today.

  


“Right.” Matt says softly and turns his head away.

 

Frank snorts and moves towards the discarded gun, the metal and plastic scrape across the floor -unbearably loud in the now silent room.

 

Matt leans against the wall from his cot, the weary pull of fatigue grasps once more at his limbs catching them one by one. He can hear Frank move towards the stairs, pausing to look towards him once more.

  


“See you around Red,”

  
  



End file.
